


The End of the World

by steamandstardust



Series: The Adventures of Libby and Gordon [1]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 23:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamandstardust/pseuds/steamandstardust
Summary: On a grey and rainy Sodor the steam engines are discussing what happens when a locomotive is no longer really useful. Henry tells a scary story about the scrapyard.With Gordon away on the mainland, Libby is feeling lonely. Diesel is primed to take advantage of this, eager for another encounter like the one they had at the Dieselworks.After managing to calm Percy, but have nightmares herself, a weakened Libby agrees to accompany Diesel when he visits saying he can't sleep. He takes them to the scrapyard for some privacy, but they are seen by Diesel 10, who decides that he deserves the attention far more than Diesel.





	The End of the World

It was a rainy day on the Island of Sodor; the kind of weather that comes in early spring to dampen the spirits and keep everyone indoors. The carriages were empty, the rails were quiet and in forgotten fields and dilapidated sheds vehicles which were no longer useful were slowly rusting away.

 

“Are you afraid of going for scrap?” Percy asked James.

“Me? Never! I’m far too splendid,” James replied. But he had thought about it, and on a grey day like today it was easier to imagine a time when not every engine could be really useful anymore.

“I was afraid once,” said Henry, “but now that I have had my boiler upgraded I don’t think about it.”

“I came very close to being scrapped,” said Toby, “I’m so glad I got brought here instead.”

 

“What happens when an engine gets scrapped?” Percy asked naively.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” Henry said quietly, “it really isn’t very nice.”

“Oh, I’ve seen old tractors in the field. All your paint peels off, your metalwork rusts and birds make their scruffy nests in your boiler!” James explained.

All the engines shuddered. Henry settled with a little hiss of steam and frowned.

“It’s much worse than that,” he said, “when you are no longer useful they tow you down the tracks to the smelters yard. It’s a graveyard of old engines, all peeled apart and broken into bits. But that isn’t the worst of it! There’s also the fiery furnace, big enough to take an engine whole and melt it down into liquid iron.”

“Please stop!” Percy cried, “I don’t like it at all!”

 

“What’s wrong Percy?” asked Thomas as he steamed up to Tidmouth sheds. Libby, the young woman who now worked in the Sodor gift shop, hopped out of his cab and greeted the other engines.

“Percy is being a scaredy-engine!” James jeered.

“No I’m not!” Percy retorted.”

“You wouldn’t be so brave yourself if you were face to face with the fiery furnace!” rattled Toby.

“What’s this about the fiery furnace?” Libby asked. She couldn’t imagine such a thing having any place on the island of Sodor.

“Engines go there when they can no longer be really useful,” said Thomas.

Libby put a hand over her mouth. Could it be true? Would an engine really be dragged to the scrapyard and melted down? It was too horrible to think about.

“Well it’s good that all of you are so useful then!” She said brightly. The mood lifted a little and the endless grey drizzle felt like it might finally be clearing.

“Yes!” said Percy, “let’s get to work!”

 

With much pumping of pistons and whooshing of steam the engines pulled away and set off to do their various jobs. Libby was left standing next to Thomas, who was also clearly keen to be gone.

“You get on your way Thomas, I’ll find something to do,” Libby said. The gift shop had been shut early as it was so quiet, and she felt at a loose end.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Thomas looked thoughtful. “You’re missing Gordon aren’t you?”

Libby smiled a little. Thomas was right. A month hadn’t seemed so long at first, but a week was already feeling uncomfortably long. It was at least partially her fault that the big blue engine had been sent off to the mainland to be reminded of the importance of getting on with his duties. Gordon had steamed off in a rage after catching her and James together, and forgotten all about the all important express. But that’s another story.

“He’ll be back before we know it,” she said, with false cheer.

“You’re right,” said Thomas, smiling. Then he wheeshed off.

 

Libby followed the tracks in the other direction, her eyes on the damp grass and with no particular destination in mind. After a few minutes, she had a feeling of being watched. Spinning round, she just caught sight of a black engine pulling into a siding.

 

“Diesel!” she called. There was a time that she wouldn’t have dared speak to the devious shunter, but there was an unspoken bond between them now. She had only crossed paths with him a couple of times since the incident at the Dieselworks, but after the initial awkwardness they had managed to exchange shy smiles. Libby ran over to the siding and, sure enough, saw Diesel waiting there. His driver had stepped out and was examining one of his side rods. Both engine and driver looked over at her.

“Libby,” Diesel sneered, “where are your steamie friends?”

“Busy working,” she said shortly. Then her tone softened. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, nothing that can’t be fixed,” the engine replied, his cheeks colouring slightly.

“This needs replacing,” his driver said, giving the piece of metal an angry swipe.

“Does it matter really?” Diesel moaned.

“Yes. Come on you load of old scrap!” The driver climbed back inside and Diesel lurched forward looking embarrassed. His driver slammed both palms down on the dash. “Out with it then,” he sighed.

Diesel exhaled a dark cloud of fumes and tried to reverse, but to no avail.

“I’m telling her!” growled his driver. He hung out of the cab and smirked at Libby.

“Diesel can’t stop talking about you. You humiliated him at the Dieselworks…. and he loved it!!”

“Owwwww no!” the black engine cried, finally managing to clatter backwards and out of the siding. Libby heard the laughter of his driver fade slowly as Diesel sped away. She continued her aimless walk thoughtfully.

 

That evening, Percy was frightened. The red of dusk reminded him of the fiery furnace, and as night fell he wasn’t able to get to sleep.

“Look, there’s nothing to worry about Percy. You are far too useful to ever be scrapped!” Libby said. He seemed a little comforted, but he was still restless.

“How about if I sleep in your cab tonight? If anyone comes to tow you away I’ll fight them off with a shovel!” She brandished a coal shovel in mock anger, and Percy finally managed a small smile.

“Alright,” he said, “thank you.”

 

There wasn’t much room in the cab of the small tank engine. The night dragged on and finally the slow rhythmic breathing of Percy announced that he was asleep. But Libby was having no such luck. First she was cold, then she had leg cramp and then there were strange noises outside. But when she did finally fall asleep, then it was even worse.

 

The Steamworks was on fire. Thick black smoke filled the air, choking and foul, billowing out of the crumbling building. Beam by beam and ember by ember, the Steamworks fell into ruin, leaving a smoking grey stain on the ground. Black diesel engines picked through the wreckage, gathering metal to be melted down at the smelters yard. The age of steam was over.

 

Libby woke with a start, her heart racing and the smell of fumes still in her lungs. She scrambled out of Percy, rushing outside to gulp in the fresh night air. But even then, the scent caught in her lungs, the acrid smell of…. Diesel.

“Hello Libby,” said the black engine shyly as he oiled closer.

“Diesel, what are you doing here?”

“I… couldn’t sleep… actually.”

“Same here,” Libby sighed. She felt edgy after her nightmare, her senses heightened to the point that the feeling of the engine looking at her was almost unbearable. “What do you want?”

Diesel backed up a little, his grey cheeks growing pink.

“You… remember what happened at the Dieselworks?”

Libby crossed her arms defensively. How could she forget?

“Yes,” she said.

“Would you… do it again?” Diesel asked.

Libby was taken aback, but the black shunter pressed on. His voice turned pleading.

“Oh please, no one need know.”

There was something heady about the diesel fumes on the air, and with the burning Steamworks of her dream fresh in her mind Libby felt weak and lonely. Wordlessly, she opened the door and stepped inside the cab.

Smugly, Diesel pulled away into the night.

 

Libby didn’t recognise the track they are were taking. After a few minutes she began to get nervous.

“Diesel, where are we going?”

“To the scrapyard. No one will disturb us there.”

Libby shivered at the mere mention of that place. Part of her regretted her compulsive decision. Was being alone in the dark with this engine even worse than being simply alone?

“Here we are!” Diesel screeched roughly to a halt, throwing Libby against his door. With another lurch forward, his door swung open and he tipped her out onto the floor. She looked up at him, fear momentarily in her eyes. But his face was flushed, breathless with anticipation.

“Do it,” he begged.

 

The ground was cold and hard. A red glow was coming from the large shed nearby, even at this time of night, and Libby was not feeling as brave as she had been. But what had Diesel’s driver said? The engine couldn’t stop talking about her. And Gordon was far away.

“Owwww, come on. Do you really think that Gordon is thinking about you now? Especially as there are those sleek streamlined engines on the mainland to catch his eye. You know he wouldn’t think twice…” Diesel purred.

Libby scowled. That hurt. But Gordon was free to do as he pleased, and she was… also free.

“Alright,” said Libby, “give me a second.”

 

She looked around the clutter of scrap that spread out alongside the rails. Her eyes fell on a metal container, and she had an idea of what to do.

“Humiliation, you say…” she murmured quietly to herself. She might as well try.

Uneasily, she siphoned the fuel out of Diesel’s tank. When it was near empty, she stepped back and took a lighter from her pocket.

Diesel winced, his face betraying his arousal.

 

Libby circled him, pouring the fuel onto the ground as she walked, her heart beating strangely. An unfamiliar smirk formed on her face as she stalked back to the front of the engine and stopped. She flicked open the lighter and dropped it. The fuel caught, a line of fire spreading to encircle them both. Mirroring the awful red heat of the smelting fire, tongues of flame licked upwards and laced the air with smoke. And for that moment, it was the end of the world, and Libby and the black shunter were the last things left alive. The red firelight danced on Diesel’s paintwork and kindled a heat inside Libby that glinted in her eyes and parted her lips.

 

This time her hands flew with familiarity to the controls. Most of the work had already been done, simply by rendering the engine in such a helpless state. Diesel rocked beneath her, biting his lip as she took a hold of the power controller.

“You are a useless engine!” she cried, increasing the pressure of her hands, “and you ought to be rolled into that smelting pit.”

“Owwwwww Libby!” Diesel cried, his engine over revving harshly, peaking and then spluttering as it cut out.

 

“The smelting pit…. indeed,” said a new and silky voice.

Libby dropped into the drivers seat in surprise. With terror, she recalled just who the voice belonged to.

“D-Diesel 10!” Diesel spluttered. His cheeks glowed with shame.

“I see that you are out of fuel,” the large, clawed engine observed.

“I may be, yes.”

“Pity. If you had fuel, you might have stopped me doing this.” With a predatory smile, the larger engine knitted his brows and hit the black shunter hard. Their buffers met with a metallic clang. Diesel wobbled wildly and then derailed.

 

Libby leapt from the cab in panic, laying her hand in a quick comforting gesture on the side of the stricken diesel.

“What the hell are you doing?” she tried to sound fierce and unafraid, but her voice wavered. Gordon wasn’t here now. James wasn’t here now. She shivered. No one friendly was here.

“I could ask you the same question,” Diesel 10 countered, raising an eyebrow.

“I, uhhhh-”

“Oh I know just what you were doing!”the warship snapped his claw for emphasis, “you made quite the impression on Diesel here. But, I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to cross paths with you again. How… fortunate… that I was wrong.”

Libby’s heart skittered in her chest. Anything that 10 thought was fortunate was likely to be exactly the opposite. She wished that she was back at the familiar sheds, or even better, back at home in her own bed.

“Well, it’s been interesting to see you again, but I best go and report that Diesel is off the rails,” she said curtly, turning heel and preparing to take a long walk in the dark.

“If you leave I will carry out your threat, and smelt Diesel down into liquid iron.”

Libby froze.

Diesel squealed in terror.

“I mean it,” 10 added coldly.

 

Slowly, the young woman turned back around. Her fists clenched uncomfortably as she faced the monster.

“What do you want, Diesel 10?”

An unpleasant smile spread across his face as he flexed his metal claw lazily.

“Oh, just to be included,” he said.

Libby gasped. It couldn’t be! There was no way that she could even consider it. It would be… terrifying. It would be too much. It would be too dangerous!

“10, I can’t-” she stuttered.

“Why ever not? Not ashamed to take a diesel, are you?” he oiled closer, even more formidable with the red glow spilling from the smelting shed behind him.

“No, it’s not that.”

The moment of hesitation was all the time he needed. Surging forward, he caught her up in his claw and triumphantly raised her into the air.

“Put me down!” she cried, struggling. But the metal was unyielding.

“No,” he said.

 

They rolled backwards, closer to the angry red light. With careless ease, Diesel 10 swung Libby over the smelting pit.

“What were you saying again?” prompted the engine.

Libby could feel the heat below her, baking air rising above hungry flames and drawing a sheen of sweat from her skin. It was awfully clear what she must do. Her body went limp as the fight left her. She gave in, the smoke of the furnace curling upwards in serpentine strands, reminding her again of the nightmare that had woken her. The vision of it overcame her and she saw the Steamworks turned to ashes. She saw track after empty track and a future without steam. Only the strong could survive.

 

Heat coursed through her body, an inner furnace ignited to rival the real flames. Confidently, she reached out and dragged her fingers across the rusty metal of the claw which held her. Blood boiling, she raised her hands and traced stripes of rust across her cheeks. Then she locked eyes with Diesel 10 and, like a fallen phoenix, she offered herself to him.

 

He accepted eagerly, shuddering as she licked a hot line down his metalwork. Not so easily satisfied as Diesel, meeting his needs took Libby through the night and up to dawn. At sunrise, she finally turned her back on the scrapyard and faced the world, a little wearier, and a little wilder, than before.


End file.
